EGOS ASIDE

We love our animals. We adore them. They are a bright spot on our day, our week, our lives. One of my favorite quotes is “You like someone because, you love someone although.” We like our dogs because they are cute, cuddly, clownish, committed — soft fur, warm tongues. We love them although they bark, they have potty accidents, they are shy, they chase squirrels. We love them although they are capable of trying our patience and forcing us to be better people. Unconditional love is not blind love, and it is the ‘although’ we all need to remember when communicating with other people about our pets.

Gracie and I were not welcome in the park, in the sidewalk, down the street. I had a problem dog, I was the only one… and everyone knew it. I struggled with feeling the scorn and isolation from the other owners until I realized that figuring out and rectifying Gracie’s complicated issues were as much about me discovering and understanding my own issues. I trained myself to be unafraid to admit her flaws… to issue a warning… ‘she’s not friendly with other dogs. She’s the opposite of friendly. No, really, she can be a big jerk.’ It sounds bad, I know. You don’t want to talk about your loved ones to perfect strangers that way. You don’t introduce your best girlfriend to a cute guy at a bar by saying “She’s emotionally clingy and codependent, buy her a cocktail at your own risk.” (Although, who knows, maybe we could save a lot of dating drama with a few introductory insights.) However, our animals, like us, are not perfect. We need to be honest with ourselves and others about our own animals… their triggers, their weaknesses, their idiosyncrasies.

I never knew inclusion until we adopted Piper… the heart and soul. Playful and brave, Piper showed us the other side of the dog-owning coin. Though Gracie was still far from being a dog-park-dog, she began to make leaps and bounds in her acceptance of the chaos of the world, and with such a spirited little counterpart who needed her playtime, we began our foray into the circle of dog owners… Piper running and chasing as fast as her little legs could carry her, and Gracie, learning how to sit politely and ignore all of the undignified behavior of those pesky dogs. Finally we were welcomed into the park, the circle of owners and seemingly well-adjusted dogs. I learned once I let go of my fear, my ego, and became unafraid to honestly explain Gracie — her positives and negatives — not only were we suddenly a part of the group, but other owners opened up to us.

Stella, the lolly German Shepherd, happy to play fetch and sit for me and shake hands (even though she wouldn’t shake for her owner), a remarkable example of an even-keel rescue dog. The truth? She’s a shoe stealer and hider. She’s a treat hound. She’s rude and bossy when she wants food in her house.

Snickers and Bucky, two rescue mutts who prance around, the paragon of confidence and restraint, with their outspoken and know-it-all owner running the crowd… but the truth? Snickers is the “fun police,” frantically barking at any dogs enjoying playtime. Bucky… he’s a runner — breaking out of the house at unexpected and potentially dangerous times. The owner? Thoughtful and opinionated, she had heard Gracie’s story from a friend, and before we had even met she became Gracie’s first champion in the group, assuring anyone who would listen about how far Gracie had come in her training and in her struggle with the world.

The group was full of stories of trials and tribulations but amongst all were the successes. Snickers was man-afraid and shy yet had learned to approach non-threatening men of his own volition. Desmond, going blind and given his inability to see his friends had taken to lashing out at perceived foes… but clever maneuvering by his owner allowed him to gain understanding of his new world. Finding the strength in my own truth helped me to realize my and Gracie’s needs, and in sharing with those around us… we found how they could help us too.

Gracie… fear aggressive and loud in her assertions… became a little mascot for the group. The other owners knew her story well, praised her for her continued improvement, supported her and us and even defended her to the not-yet-converted. Being honest about our dogs is scary because we know it means being honest about ourselves. No one wants to announce their flaws… but the sooner we realize everyone has them… the sooner we become a community sharing in learning and support for one another.